The boy who conquered CHERUB
by SoccerTeas
Summary: What if Cherub wasn't so secret? What if, on one mission, Cherub wasn't so good? There are more powerful people than CHERUB, but some aren't people. Some are monsters. Tommy Jones is just about to find that out.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Muchamore, not Meyer, not even a car**

**Kent Marshes, 1853 **

The wind cut like a knife through the marshes.

Out in the half-light, a teenage boy looked up at the receding sun through his windswept blond hair, clutching the peat in his hands.

"Probably should get going soon", he reasoned, muttering to himself, remembering his da's warnings:

"The marshes ain't a good place for anyone to be near night-y'hear me, Tommy?" he would murmur, with a whole other vocabulary of warnings, parables and vague threats.

But they had a hint of truth in them, which was why Tommy was now walking across the bogs that fill the landscape of Victorian Kent.

His house was only a short walk away, but he was carrying the peat he had cut, a hefty 8kg for fuel.

However, it wasn't difficult. Every night he would have a place by the fire, so why should he care that he lived far away from all his friends? He had his family.

So Tommy, dressed in only rags cut from flour sacks, headed home, to a hot meal, smiles with his sister, Sarah, and to a family who loved him.

To a family who were already gone.

**CHERUB headquarters, now**

"Oh shoot", said James, gritting his teeth while looking at the telephone by his bed.

3 missed calls. 3 missed calls from the chairwoman, Zara.

He guessed that it was probably his fault for having a massive hangover the night had drunk about 5 glasses of beer, washed down with a few subtle swigs of gin that Dana had hidden.

But then, it was his birthday, and he deserved a celebration. Even so, that didn't stop him cursing anyone and anything that had anything to do with that party, including himself.

He was now late. For the chairwoman.

He ran from his bedroom, down the corridor, even taking the stairs for once. Within 40 seconds he was standing outside Zara's office, staggering through the door.

"Ah, James", said Zara, cheerfully, "As immaculate and on time as ever".

She wasn't alone-a medium sized bald man stuck out a hand which James shook.

"Nice to meet you, James. My name is Daniel Philip, although you can call me Danny. I'm head of the anti-Narcotics in Kent, and we have a problem.

We have to apprehend a drug dealer, a fairly high up one, actually. His name is Samuel Jones, although we know nothing about him, and I mean nothing".

Here James was surprised. "What do you mean? You must know something about him?"

"I'm afraid not. This man never goes out, doesn't have a car, there isn't even any offence he has committed that we could use to search his house.

What we do know, is that cases like this have only happened once, often every 3 or 4 years. We think that Samuel is simply creating a new identity each time, but we don't know where he will be next time he disappears, and previous attempts to search his house….unofficially…have very much failed.

Therefore, we decided to target his child. As I've heard, you will make friends with him, he will invite you over to his house and then you will search his house and find incriminating evidence". Daniel stepped back, having said his part.

Just as James was about to ask why he didn't get a mission briefing, Zara spoke.

"We need to arrest Samuel Jones. He is one of the biggest importers of cocaine into the country and around the world. He is even bigger than Keith Moore.

However, we have sent MI6 adult agents in, posting as drug dealers. Within a few days they were terminated. This wouldn't have passed the Ethics committee at all. You are one of the best agents we have here. We need you to do this".

The clear flattery Zara had put on worked like magic. James couldn't seem to accept fast enough.

"Okay, don't worry-don't worry at all. I'll do it. Just a question though-who am I targeting?" At this Daniel stood forward.

"His name is Tommy Jones".

**A/N: Sorry if it is short. I have not done a fanfiction before. Please Read, maybe review, maybe not criticise, and definitely not hate on me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Muchamore, not Meyer, not even a car**

**Kent Marshes, 1853**

Tommy smiled as he saw his parent's farm, the evening sun illuminating it for the last time that night. "The Farm", as he called it, was a simple 20 x 30ft house, with holes in the roof that his father would cover with reeds and pitch during the summer, but would undoubtedly crack later in the year. However, Tommy didn't see this. It was his home-and it was as beautiful as any house should be.

He hefted the peat on top of his arm and threw it, albeit not as far as he would have liked, but enough to land it on top of the pile.

From there, it would dry for a few days in the sun, and would then be chopped up and used for fuelling the fire.

He walked over to the front of his home. He smiled, and turned, to enter the house.

He turned, to end the life he thought he had.

If he wondered why the front door was open in the heat of the summer-the house would have more insects in it than a beehive he had once disturbed-or why his mother hadn't placed the laundry out to hang, he didn't notice.

You don't tend to when your parents are lying, dead, outside the front porch.

**CHERUB Headquarters, now**

Lauren sighed as she heard the banging on her door.

She and Rat had just had an argument and James wouldn't be the first person she would have wanted to speak to. However, he was her brother, and so she got up off her bed and walked over to the door, and let James in.

"I'm just going to go off on a mission", he said. Lauren was happy about this, but surely James wasn't grinning at the thought of this.

She had her answer soon enough.

"And guess what Zara told me!" almost shouted James, gleefully.

Lauren had a feeling he was about to tell him.

"I'm one of the best CHERUB agents!"

"Oh please, if you were there wouldn't even be an England", she said, laughing. She was definitely telling Bethany about this. "So, James, is that why you came all the way up here?" James now dropped his smile a bit.

"Nah, that's not the reason I'm here. I'm off hunting a drug dealer. I'll be gone for a few weeks"Now he dropped his smile even further.

Although Lauren wouldn't have guessed it, James was thinking about what he had let himself in for.

He had just agreed to a mission adult MI6 agents had died on, and that Zara hadn't put through the ethics committee.

If he…if he died, they could not say on a moment he went down to Kent, he was on his own.

He mentally kicked himself. It was well within his right to refuse a mission. If he did, the system wouldn't even say he had, on account of this being unofficial.

For perhaps the first time in a few years, he felt something.

Something he hadn't felt since a time with Lauren before his mum died, in that back alley.

Something cold in his stomach. Like a slug, slowly moving across his intestines, biting a chunk wherever he went. He felt fear.

Lauren, of course, didn't know any of this. "Why the long face, James?" she asked, giggling. James finally looked up.

"Nothing. I'll just be missing the trip to the beach" This Lauren could understand.

Every year, the whole of CHERUB, except those on missions or on punishment, took a flight to a secret island, where for a few days they could be themselves. James loved it there.

"Oh well" she said, sympathetically, hugging him tightly, "there'll be other times". James hugged her back.

"I'll miss you, sis".

"I'll miss you, you big dummy. You'll be back soon, don't worry. Anyway, what's the worst that could happen?"

With her head on James' chest, she couldn't see the fear that passed through his eyes.

**Kent, now**

"And you're sure of this, Will?" said voice on one side of the telephone.

Anyone listening would have heard a young voice, not even broken, and would have thought he was on the phone to his friend.

A specialist would have heard a slight country accent whenever certain vowels were spoken, and would have assumed he was practising speaking with an Oxford accent, presumably not proud of his birth.

But no one, absolutely no one, would have guessed who this boy was. If they did they certainly wouldn't believe him to be a boy.

"I'm certain. CHERUB just got involved. They are sending a boy over". At this the boy thought to the last people who had tried to catch him out. In the end they wished they had not got involved.

"It's all very unofficial. I just heard it". Will, the man speaking, had been saved by the boy a few years ago, and so had given information over the years in payment.

"OK then. I'll have to deal with that. Thank you, Will". He hung up.

The boy sat back in his seat. He had heard about CHERUB a good few years ago. After all, they had nearly recruited him at one stage. His name was probably on record somewhere, although no one would remember that boy Nigel Stevens.

Anyway, that, the boy knew, was a long while ago. The more immediate problem lay with this agent coming round. That messed up his plans, although he could move again, he reasoned.

He sighed. He could arrange an accident, but then the heat would be on him. No. Best to leave him be and see which way the wind blew.

"So", whispered the boy to himself, "I've got to wait". This was no problem. After all, he had been waiting a long time.

Over 150 years, to be precise.

Who was this boy, anyway?

Nigel Stevens…Frankie Hills…Tommy Jones…It didn't change anything. He was that boy.

That pale boy.

That vampire.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed that. Please review if you want me to continue, it's just a hobby at the moment. If you hate it, review as well-I'm all up for constructive criticism**


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